


The Game of Despair

by rustyrainbow



Category: The Dark Crystal (1982), The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-16
Packaged: 2020-10-19 08:43:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20654393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rustyrainbow/pseuds/rustyrainbow
Summary: What if the Archer hadn't made the ultimate sacrifice?





	1. Chapter 1

The Hunter was back. That was all Rian could process beyond the terror that screamed through him. The pain, the exhaustion, was nothing compared to the mind-numbing fear, knowing that he was about to die.

It had happened so quickly. In one moment, he was holding his own against two of the Skeksis, against the emperor himself, and the next he was wrenched off his feet, with only the briefest glimpse of the Hunter- _the Hunter_\- barreling towards him. He could see nothing but the sky and the trees rushing past, couldn't do anything but keep his iron grip on the Dual Glaive, and then he was skidding headfirst across the ground and rolling, the world a blur around him until he slammed into the stone steps, his cheek connecting with the worn edge of the rock with a crack. For a moment he was stunned, his head spinning and fogged with pain. He groaned.

Then he felt those long claws wrap around his neck and he twisted, getting a look at the Skekis' smug face as he leaned close. Rian was momentarily transported back to the final moments of his father's life. Screaming for his father's help, watching him vanish beneath the Gobblers while he did nothing. Nothing. He screamed and scrabbled at the rock beneath him, but he was so small, so weak, he couldn't stop himself from being lifted into the air.

But he still had the Glaive. His fingers locked tight around its hilt. His last hope. Rian shifted-

“Is this your trophy?” the Skeksis sneered into his ear, grabbing the blades as if Rian hadn't spent all night sharpening them until they could split hairs. “No!” He felt it wrenched out of his hands, felt two fingers try to follow and pop out of their sockets as they got caught in the hilt. The sudden pain was nothing compared to his grief, his terror, his failure, as he watched the sword shatter into pieces. “No!” he screamed again and again because he couldn't accept this reality. To get here after everything, after all the sacrifices they'd made, and have their last hope so easily broken, smashed on the ground like a child's toy. He couldn't. It couldn't be real.

It was then he knew. He knew he would die. They would all die and this would be the end. The Skeksis would drain every last Gelfling. It had all been for nothing. Mira. His father. The All-Maudra. They had all died for nothing. He had failed them all. He was nothing.

He could hear the others screaming. It was all one terrible noise except for one voice calling his name. Deet. He looked up through the tangle of his hair, much as he could dangling by his neck, and caught a glimpse of her green face, her eyes wide and scared. She had been so brave and strong. He'd have been lost long ago without her. And Brea, stepping up to her side, demanding his release. It would have been funny if he hadn't been about to die, her acting the haughty princess giving orders as if the lords of the Crystal would listen. His two friends were strong together, they would take care of each other as long as they could, after he was... gone.

“Quiet, puny Gelfling!” the roar rattled in his ears. Rian's feet pedaled in the air as he hung from the Skeksis grip. He could barely breathe. “I return more powerful than Thra itself!” He stiffened as he was hoisted high in the air, swinging, choking. “Nothing can stop the hunt!”

Then the monster's heavy hand grabbed hold of his head, pulled him close. The boney palm blocked his sight, the claws digging deep into his scalp. Rian screamed and flailed again, panicking. He was going to twist his head off like popping the seal of a jar of peachberry jam. He felt his neck wrenched to the side, felt excruciating pain rocket up his spine- this was it- but suddenly the claws relaxed, he felt the massive form he was pressed against stumble, and he was hurled to the ground. Then there was nothing but darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Rian awoke slowly, nightmares clinging to his mind like cobwebs. His senses came back reluctantly one by one. First his hearing returned, the noises merely background until his mind surfaced from the darkness and began to process them. He could hear voices. No, only one voice. One voice that bounced around him a dozen times before the echoes faded. It sounded angry.

The feeling in his limbs came back next. First the pounding in his head, the ache in his neck, bumps and bruises in so many places he felt there wasn't an unscathed inch of him left. He sucked in a lungful of air and wheezed, trying to shift his weight to something more comfortable. With a great effort, he managed to turn his head slightly and agony lanced up his spine, bright and hot, into the base of his skull. He gasped and moaned, stiffening, his breath growing shallow and quick and his mind coming into sharp focus with the pain. Rian's whole body began to quake as panic spread through him. He should be dead. If he wasn't, it was worse. 

He tried to still himself, to calm the rapid fluttering of his heart, the panting of his breath. He spent five minutes trying to dredge up a memory of his father, of the hours he would spend being forced to listen to his droning, his lectures, finally finding the one he was looking for, the one when he'd taught him how to breathe, how to find calm in the midst of battle, before drawing a bowstring or blocking a blow with a sword. Those breathing exercises had always been hard for him. What was the point? He was a guard, something he'd never even really wanted. He'd only done it because that's what his father wanted. There would never be any real battles beyond the occasional Spitter finding its way into the castle, so why waste his time? He didn't have the attention span for it anyway.

Now he was grateful for those tedious lessons, because he couldn't do anything but breathe. He could feel heavy rope binding his wrists and ankles, so he wasn't going anywhere, even if he'd been able to move his head. Despite the fear this knowledge brought, his heart gradually slowed to a more manageable pace, his breath eased, and he was able to force his eyes open. 

What little light there was nearly blinded him, making the pain in his head redouble. He blinked several times until his vision came into focus. He was in a cave. The light was coming from a fire, flickering and reflecting off the glistening stone walls. More disturbing than that though, were the bars he was looking out between. He was in a cage. This was not great news, but he also wasn't dead. Why wasn't he dead? 

The light dimmed for a moment as the voice grew louder, the heavy bulk of the figure briefly blocking the light as it came into the cave. It was the Hunter. It had been his voice Rian had been hearing, talking to himself. Not to himself. To his other half, from what Rian could glean from his excited ramblings. He was raving, angry. Rian could only guess that the Mystic had tried to wound the Skeksis in an effort to help them. He hoped he was alright, wherever he was.

“Coward! The hunt cannot be stopped! The only way to end it is to win or die! But you are too much of a coward to defeat me for good, too much a fool...” the looming figure stopped when he saw that Rian was conscious and watching him. “Awake at last,” he hissed, coming closer and lowering himself to sit on a rock near Rian's prison, one of his arms pressed to his side as if he were in pain. 

Rian cringed, but that was about all he could do. “What do-” he coughed as his sore throat protested, sending another spike of pain up his neck, “What do you want?”

The Skeksis looked displeased, but Rian had never really been able to read their bird-like expressions. “Weakling,” he muttered, his beady eyes raking over him and making Rian's skin crawl. “Draining Gelfling will only make Skeksis weak. Not me. I am only interested in the hunt.” 

“You won,” Rian croaked, “It's over. Take your trophy and be done with it.”

“Twice now the hunt has been interrupted. The victory means nothing!” Rian winced back from the sudden roar. “I will have my hunt. I will have my trophy.”

Rian swallowed the lump of fear rising higher in his throat. “...I won't play your game.”

“You will. In the meantime I will hunt down every last one of the Gelfling scum, until I have your head as my trophy.” The Hunter's beak twisted into a sneering smile. He got up with a grunt and limped out of the cave, leaving Rian with only the dying light of the fire for company.

He felt his eyes stinging and squeezed them shut tightly. He didn't want to cry. Not here. He didn't want to be weak when he knew his friends were still alive and fighting. With an effort, he pulled his knees closer to his chest, curling up as tight as his injuries would let him. It was a slow, painful process that left him exhausted. New hurts that he had forgotten or not noticed made themselves known with each wrong shift. Despite his fear, despite the pain, it wasn't long before he fell asleep with tears tracing his cheeks.


	3. Chapter 3

When Rian next woke there was a tiny sliver of daylight stretching along the floor of his cage. He blinked slowly, groggy from the deep sleep that came from healing such extensive damage. He was not all that much better, but when he moved his chin to get a better view of his surroundings, his neck was extremely painful and stiff, but it did move, which was the important thing. There had been no dreams this night, none he could remember in detail at least. There was only a lingering sense of dread in the pit in his stomach.

He pushed himself up slowly, hissing from the pain, and rested his back and head against the iron bars surrounding him. After a few steadying breaths, he took another look around. Once again he was alone in the cavern. It looked like this was the Skeksis' home, which was surprising. Rian had always assumed all the Skeksis lived in the castle. He wished he'd paid more attention to his lessons back then. It all seemed so long ago, but really not that much time had passed since Mira... since she died. Since all of this began. Had she been the first? It had seemed like it... but what other horrors the Skeksis had been up to since trine before he had no idea. Things had never been right. There was only before he'd known the truth, and after. But it did no good to dwell now.

Rian looked down at his hands and twisted his wrists slightly, testing his bonds. The skin was already raw, and the fingers of his right hand were swollen and looked... wrong. He prodded at his knuckles tentatively, biting down on his tongue to avoid crying out when he discovered that one of them was indeed out of alignment. Unfortunately Rian only had very basic medical training for first aid on the field. It would have to be enough.

Careful not to jar his bad hand, he worked his belt off and shoved the leather between his teeth. This would be difficult with his hands bound together. Then he scooted around to the corner of the cage, hissing as he was reminded of other bruises, and wedged his shoulder between two bars. When he was stable, he lifted he hands and rested the back of his injured hand against the bar, using the other hand to force his fingers straight. He bit down hard on the belt, already breathing hard through his nose at the pain of fully extending his fingers. The popped joint was resting directly against the bar, though his hands were shaking. This was going to hurt really badly. Steadying himself, he took a several quick breaths, and then shoved hard against the bar.

He groaned into the gag, teeth burying deep into the leather, until he felt a pop and he shrieked, snatching his hand back and hugging it tight to his chest. The pain was excruciating. He didn't even know if he'd made it worse. For several minutes he just sat there, cradling his hands to his stomach and rocking back and forth, his jaw still clamped on the belt as he sobbed through the pain.

Eventually he got control of himself, the pain diminishing enough that he could uncurl to inspect the damage. He lifted his hands and pulled the belt from his mouth, glancing at the imprints he'd made in it before turning his eyes to his right hand. He couldn't say that it looked better, but it looked more like it was supposed to. Gingerly, he felt the knuckle and found that it was back where it should be. The pain was still intense, but at least now it would heal properly, and he might not lose the use of it.

He sagged against the bars and closed his eyes in relief. That was step one to his plan. Now he just needed to figure out the rest of it.

Some time later, Rian was jolted awake by a crash. He bolted upright, disoriented and searching wildly for the source of the noise. He found it quickly once the Skeksis began to laugh, loud and horrible. A shallow metal bowl, filled with...something, and water in a metal cup, both sat on the floor of his cage. He stared at it in confusion. SkekMal must have open the door while he was sleeping and then slammed it closed, and that was what had woken him. Rian had almost forgotten about food. His throat, however, was dry and scratchy and ached from the battle. How long had it been? He grabbed the water between his bound hands without thinking and brought it to his lips, taking first small, tentative sips, and then gulping the last of it down. Too soon it was gone, and Rian resisted the urge to lick the rim in search of any last drops. He swallowed and set the cup down with trembling hands. It wasn't nearly enough.

Finally, he looked up at the Skeksis and saw that he had been watching him. He shuddered and shifted back into his place against the bars, pulling his knees back up to his chest. He was not going to ask for more. “So what?” he said after several minutes of uncomfortable silence in which the Hunter didn't take his eyes off the Gelfling. “You're going to take care of me now so you can kill me later?”

SkekMal shrugged and grinned, “I want a challenge. There's no glory in killing such a defenseless creature. When the hunt begins again we will be on equal terms, though that won't help you much. I would have had your head at Stone in the Wood, but that old fool urVa stole my moment.” He got up and leaned close over Rian's cage, his claws tapping against the bars briefly in thought, “I should thank him. This will be much more entertaining.” Rian curled a little further in on himself to get as far away as possible, glaring up at him. The Skeksis' laughter crawled across his skin as he turned and left the cave, leaving Rian alone with his thoughts once again.

It was a long time before he grew hungry enough to consider the food in the bowl. By then it was cold and beginning to develop a skin, but it smelled alright and when he dipped a finger in and tested it on his tongue, it proved to be a bland mush of oats and seeds. He hadn't been provided a spoon and his hands were still bound so eating it wasn't the simplest task, but he didn't care. When he'd licked it clean he curled back up in the corner, resting his head on the metal floor, feeling the throbbing pain in his neck immediately ease when the weight was off it. Rian sighed, and tried unsuccessfully not to think about what his friends might be doing at this moment. Had they all survived? Had any been captured? There had been so much confusion, he'd lost track of everyone almost from the beginning. And when he'd been... Rian's chest tightened as he thought about those last moments at Stone-in-the-Wood. All the fighting had stopped and everyone had been watching. Now that it was over, now that he wasn't dead, he felt... humiliated, but just as frightened as if he were still there. He felt like he was still trapped there, dangling in the space in between life and after, waiting for the end, waiting to return to Thra.

He shivered, the metal bars a cold reminder against his back. They would never know what had become of him. Like Mira, like his father, he would just be gone, as if he'd never existed at all.

He was thinking about Deet when sleep finally claimed him, hours later.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a plot bunny I wanted to explore but since I don't know any AoR rpers yet you get fic. If you are interested hit me up!


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